


Let's Be Honest

by cartoonlandofmysteries



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:16:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartoonlandofmysteries/pseuds/cartoonlandofmysteries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Franky Doyle is feeling true independence for the first time in her young life, but will this sudden surge of freedom cloud her judgement?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is my very first fic and I am a very small human so please judge tenderly of me. 
> 
> (These chapters are gonna be relatively short cos I'm super out of practice and taking forever to write.)
> 
> ** Heads up, this fic is unfinished, and hard as I may try, the road this show has gone down has wiped my enjoyment of continuing this. I can't speak in certainty for the future (my resentment may fade in time), but as of this moment, I do not plan to finish this. **

Franky watched through creased brows as a first year clutching a campus map excitedly orienteered his way to his dorm, his parents and young sister following behind carrying his luggage.  
How nuclear, she thought, bouncing to readjust the duffle bag digging into her shoulders. Dragging her suitcase behind her, Franky navigated her way through the campus, mentally daubing her Orientation Day Bingo card: Condescending Student Union reps- check- handing out free condoms (yeah, no thanks)- check. 

Having received a map from the SU rep, mirroring his patronising enthusiasm with a show of eagerness drenched in sarcasm, Franky mentally traced the route to her dorm and set off, satisfied with his faltered expression. 

H block turned out to be a short five-minute walk away, of which Franky was thankful, already feeling a creeping pinch in her middle back. Noting the monochromatic design scheme, she pushed her way through the glass doors bearing a frosted ‘H’. 

Finding herself with two flights of stairs to climb, Franky braced herself at the foot of the steps, placed her suitcase on its side and hoisted it up by the fraying handle, nostrils flaring with exertion. A collapsible plastic table awaited her on the landing of the second floor, supporting the feet of a girl with striking red hair as she reclined in her seat behind it, chatting lazily with a lanky brunette. The redheaded girl stood as she spotted Franky. 

“Oh, here, let me help with this,” she said, not waiting for approval before she shouldered Franky’s duffel bag. 

“Five-star service,” Franky grinned at the other girl, still seated behind the table.

“What’s your name, love?” the girl smiled back expectantly, tucking a strand of her brunette pixie cut behind her ear.

“I’m Franky”

“Doyle?” she confirmed, pen poised above a list.

Franky nodded.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Franky, I’m Bea, I’m the R.A,” the redhead proclaimed.

“No kidding,” Franky replied. 

“And I’m Maxine,” the brunette smiled graciously, presenting Franky with her room key.

“Come on,” Bea nudged Franky playfully, “I’ll give you a tour.”

Bea steered Franky towards the dorms and, rounding a corner to a narrow hallway, stopped to tap her knuckles against the first door. A girl with curly blonde hair answered. 

“Not busy are you?” said Bea by way of greeting.

“Nah, just having a cuppa,” the blonde responded warmly.

“Franky, this is Liz, she's studying Health Science,” said Bea, motioning with her head. “If you ever want a chat, Liz is who you go to.”  
“Door’s always open,” added Liz.

“Do you _chat_ with a lot of people, Liz?” Franky grinned.

“I do what I can,” Liz replied coolly.

Franky made a small noise of amusement.

Liz laughed. 

“It’s good to meet you Franky,” she said sincerely. 

Bea winked at Liz as she started down the hallway again, Franky trailing behind, eyes wide as she took in her new home. Franky had worked her arse off to get into uni, and she was well aware of the monument of that accomplishment. Having raised herself after her father left meant there was no room for modesty in Franky’s mind. No one else was going to praise her, so she’d learnt to do it herself. She briefly allowed herself a flutter of hope as she mused what it was going to be like living here. For eighteen years, she’d shouldered the brunt of her deadbeat mother’s frustrations, her insidious cruelty pervading Franky’s weaknesses. But now Franky had a chance for growth, free of coppicing. She briefly allowed the little girl inside her to skip jubilantly alongside the butterflies soaring in her stomach before catching herself with a grind of her teeth. She couldn’t allow herself to mess this up with naivety. She wasn’t a kid anymore, nor would she ever be again. This was the real world, she needed to be an adult, and that meant defences up. She couldn’t afford to screw herself over.

Bea gestured towards her own room, the bathroom and Maxine’s room respectively as she led Franky down the hall. Peering around the peeling plasterboard arch that revealed the kitchen, dining and living area, Bea stopped abruptly. 

“Hey Dor, c’mere a minute!” she called.

A girl with flowing black hair poked her head around the corner.

“Doreen, meet Franky. Franky- Doreen.”

Doreen stepped out from behind the wall, offering Franky a friendly smile.

“Hey Franky!”

“Hey,” Franky replied with a tight smile.

"Dors is doing Nursing with Maxine," Bea said.

Doreen leant casually against the door frame. 

“So, has Bea already lured you into the team?” 

“No,” Bea said pointedly. “I was going to let her settle in a bit first.”

“I hope this team is what I think it is,” Franky said playfully.

“Basketball,” Doreen supplied. “Bea’s club captain. We all play.”

“So it’s sort of non-negotiable you join. H2 regulation,” Bea said. “We’ve set up shop on the Union Lawn, the guys from Sierra House are down there now taking registrations. We’re about to go join them so… when you’re settled, come and say hello, meet your teammates.”

Bea then set down Franky’s duffel bag in front of her door. Turning on her heel and striding back down the hall, she squeezed Franky’s shoulder as she passed. Franky watched her go incredulously, turning to Doreen, who winked before retreating back into the kitchen. 

Franky unlocked her door and grabbed her bag as she stepped over the threshold. The room was small and pokey; a slim wooden bed, wardrobe and desk all fixed to the brown brick walls. Franky pushed the door closed behind her with a gentle click, deposited her bags beside her and suddenly leapt onto the bed. She reclined with her arms behind her head, a radiant smile lighting up her face as her eyes darted around the room, taking in this space that was now hers. 

Many minutes later, a loud thump outside Franky’s door interrupted her unpacking. Franky froze, hesitant to investigate the source of the noise. A belated “…Fuck,” had Franky opening her door. 

A young girl whipped her head up, pain etched across her face.

“You right?” Franky asked.

“Dropped my suitcase on my toe,” she murmured bashfully. 

Franky looked between the girl and the key sticking out of the lock of the door opposite. 

“Ya goof,” Franky teased, picking up the girl’s suitcase with a grunt and unlocking the door for her. 

The girl followed Franky into her room, mumbling a “thanks” as Franky set the suitcase down by the girls bed. An awkward pause followed as Franky assessed the girl’s body language, taking note of her crossed arms and refusal to make eye contact. Unreceptive. 

Scratching her bottom lip with her thumb nail, Franky moved to exit the room, muttering “you’re welcome,” as she passed.

“What your name?”

Franky froze at the doorway, a slow smile spreading across her face. 

“I’m Franky,” she said, spinning around.

“I’m Sue,” the girl replied. “But everyone calls me Boomer.”

“I can see why,” Franky laughed.

“Not because of that!” Boomer blushed, glancing briefly at her foot.

“So, why then?”

“Well, I’ve got a reputation... ‘cause sometimes, when I get mad, I’ll go a bit boonta.”

Franky let out a sharp exhale of amusement. 

“So don’t cross me!” Boomer jokingly threatened

“Duly noted,” Franky replied, grinning.

 

\--

 

The Union Lawn was packed; an array of stalls bordered the grounds, bookended by a stage hosting the local community radio station. The center of the hub accommodated the Red Frogs stand, and an industrious sausage sizzle. Boomer lead the way, parting the sea of first-years as Franky followed, strolling in her wake. After collecting their sausages (Franky nabbing them each a free can of soft drink while Boomer played the distraction), they ambled around the circumference of the bazaar, saying little more than observational quips, as they were both quietly overwhelmed by the activity. 

Soon enough, the distant rhythm of basketballs reached their ears, growing ever louder over the ambient excitement as they approached the stall, which sported a large banner displaying the team name, “Hoop There It Is.” 

“Ladies,” Bea greeted authoritatively. 

“Red,” Franky acknowledged, daring a glance back at Boomer, a silent green-lighting of the polite, yet assertive decline they’d scripted back in Boomer’s room before they left. 

“Maxine and Liz are over there having a bit of a bounce, why don’t you go over and join them. They’ll introduce you to everybody. Kinda got my hands full over here,” Bea said, surveying the mob of eager students grouped around the sign-up sheet with a maternal smile.

“Look, I-“ Franky started, her eyes following Bea’s gesture over to where Maxine and Liz were playing three-on-three with who she assumed to be the residents of Sierra House. Simultaneously, one of the Sierra girls looked up from the game and met Franky’s gaze,- “’am really excited about getting involved. Yeah, looking forward to it.” Franky nodded vigorously. “C’mon, Booms.”

Franky grabbed Boomer by the arm and lead her aside, wincing in anticipation before facing her.

“What. The fuck,” Boomer enunciated. 

“I think we should play.”

“I don’t want to play fucking basketball, and last I checked, neither did you!”

“We might as well try it. I mean, what good’s isolating ourselves from our housemates gonna do?”

Boomer regarded Franky. “You pussed out, didn’t you? If you don’t want to stand up to Bea, you could have just said so. I’ll do it,” she said, turning back towards the sign-up desk.

“No, Booms!” Franky exclaimed, whipping her back around. “Will you just do this with me? Look at you, you’ll be a great basketballer.”

“You reckon?” Boomer said sceptically.

“Yeah!” Franky assured.

“But I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing!” Boomer faltered.

“You’ll learn. Come on.”

They made their way over to Doreen who was spectating the match from the sideline. Greeting them warmly, she proceeded to point out the different team members.

“So Maxine and Liz you know, that Samoan bloke is Will, he studies sport science.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Franky noticed a small smile dance across Boomer’s lips.

“… That’s Vera, she's studying Social Work, Bridget that just scored then, she's a Psych student, and Nash, my boyfriend. He does Vet Science, he's really great with animals.”

Bridget, Franky mused, sizing up the girl she’d made eye-contact with earlier, unaware of the grin now spread across her face as she watched Bridget gleefully hi-five her teammates. 

“So Will, Vera, Bridget, and Nash live in Sierra House off-campus,” Doreen continued. “We’re over there all the time, it’s not far. We train here though, there’s a gym on the South side. Every Thursday night.”

A deliberate pass had the ball flying directly at Doreen’s head. She caught it deftly and glared playfully at Nash.

“You ladies want to stop chit-chatting and sub in?” he called.

Boomer’s face reddened slightly, realising all attention was on them.

Franky felt her back straighten of its own accord.

“Dor, swap with me, I’ll go and help Bea” Maxine said, jogging off the court. 

“I might sit out for a bit, too,” Bridget said, dragging her forearm across her brow as she walked towards them.

“Boomer, come on,” Dor said, pulling her with her.

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m ‘right thanks. Franky, you go!” Boomer stammered.

“Seriously!” Doreen insisted. “You’ve got Maxine’s height- it’s the perfect substitute! You don’t have to be good, it’s just fun.”

Franky nodded encouragingly. “Show ‘em what you got!”

Boomer hesitantly made her way onto the court with Doreen amidst Franky’s cheers, Bridget extending her hand for a hi-five as they passed.

“Not bad,” Franky commented lightly as Bridget took Doreen’s space, rigidly confining her eyes to Boomer’s attempts on the court, and far away from the low neckline of Bridget’s tank top and exposed chest, which glistened as she lightly panted.

“Thanks,” Bridget replied, eyes also trained on the game before them. “Feeling a bit rusty though, if I’m honest. I didn’t get to play much over the summer.”

“Don’t you live with those guys though? I would’ve thought you’d all be playing all the time.”

“Ordinarily, yes, but I spent a couple of months overseas.”

“And she’s cultured!” Franky grinned.

“Hardly,” Bridget chuckled modestly. “I was in Vancouver doing work experience. Not exactly exotic.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to play it off, if I were you,” Franky said after a beat, a deep crease appearing in her eyebrows. “Would have been freezing, though,” Franky commented again, before Bridget could speak.

“I acclimatised,” Bridget said, noticing a slight chill in Franky’s demeanour.

“Bet you’re dying right now, though,” Franky said, aware of the bright pink tinge that still caressed Bridget’s cheeks. She reached into the canvas bag that had been hanging by her fingertips, briefly rummaging through the various Student Life brochures and welcome packs, before withdrawing a sweating can of soft drink, offering it with a kind smile.

“Here, I was saving it for later, but you should have it.”

“Thank you…” 

“Franky.”

“Franky,” Bridget said softly, her eyes darting over Franky’s face.

Franky grinned, turning back to the game.

“Don’t mention it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thanks to Steph here-comes-the-sunxo on Tumblr for proof reading and also kicking my ass to publish it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning ahead for one (1) casual penis mention late in the chapter.

Franky smoothed the last touch of eyeshadow over her lid and sighed, staring at her reflection. The soft drip of the dilapidated showers ground against her nerves. She shut her eyes for a moment, leaning against the countertop where her makeup was spread around the sink. Her chest felt too tight, and her stomach slightly queasy. She let out a shuddering breath before opening her eyes, suddenly registering Liz in the mirror, watching her from the door.  
   
“Hey,” Liz said tenderly from her spot against the door frame.  
   
“Hey yourself,” Franky replied (with a lot less playful energy than she’d hoped).  
   
Liz drew closer, concern threading her eyebrows, and waited for Franky to speak.  
   
Franky rolled her shoulder casually. “I’m fine.”  
   
“Love, you look like you’re about to boot,” Liz chuckled, unconvinced.  
   
“New job,” Franky explained after a moment. “It’s no big deal.”  
   
“First day?”  
   
Franky nodded. “It’s no big deal,” she repeated. Her previous job had been a high school gig as a dish hand at a seedy restaurant in her neighbourhood. Her pay had been beyond shit, but it was the only thing that had ensured some semblance of independence under her mother’s roof. Mostly it had gone towards food when her mother had claimed monopoly of the kitchen pantry, but she’d kept her earnings high enough to occasionally hang out with her school friends, enough to maintain the illusion that her family encouraged a normal, enjoyable adolescence. So, she’d endured blisters and burns from the labour, constant berating from her employer, and leers from hooded figures as she’d trekked home in the early hours of the morning.  
  
Exposure had numbed her to the trials of her previous job, but this felt totally new. In theory, manning a cash register was straightforward, easy money. But she’d never had to directly interact with customers before. Her smart mouth had gotten her a laugh from past co-workers, but now, all it would get her was fired.  
  
If she didn’t have a job, then she couldn’t afford to sustain her life at uni and she’d be stuck in that stupid perpetual cycle that social workers so love to dissect. The biggest liability to her success was herself, and that is what surged through the synapses of her clenched fists as she forced an aloof grin at Liz… who wasn’t buying it.  
   
“Look, Liz,” Franky spun around to face the girl. “I appreciate what you’re tryna do, really, but I don’t do the whole ‘talking’ thing,” she punctuated with a succinct shake of her head.  
   
“Righto,” Liz conceded. “Don’t be afraid to show that you’re a bit nervous, though. It’s good- means you care.”  
   
“Just don’t boot on the boss, right?”  
   
“Right.”  
   
The girls shared a smile, before Franky turned back around to inspect her reflection one last time. Flattening her hair-straightener-pressed collar and brushing her fringe across her forehead, she deemed her appearance acceptable. She then collected her makeup and left, playfully bumping Liz on her way out.  
 

\--

 

Franky stared into the eyes reflected back at her as she leant against the window of the train. The black, vacuous tunnel hummed deeply as they sped through it, the vibrations reverberating uncomfortably, almost painfully, in her acutely tight chest. Amidst the scratches and graffiti on the domed window, Franky scrutinised her tense brows, and willed them to relax. She needed to look enthusiastic, not constipated. Blurred lights whizzed past the window, obscuring her reflection, and slowly came into focus as the train slowed to a stop at the station. Franky shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and joined the surging nine-to-five commuters as they spilled out onto the platform.  
   
The warm evening breeze whipped Franky’s fringe around her face as she ambled her way from the train station towards the shopping centre. It was a Tuesday night, and the decorated promenade was alive with suits passing through on their way home. She dared a glance at her phone as she weaved through the concourse; she still had fifteen minutes before her shift started. 

Approaching the shopping centre, a surge of wind blew her hair in her face as she stepped between the automatic glass doors. The polished floor glinted under fluorescent lights and echoed lightly under Franky’s Converse as she strode through the mall. Only the twenty-four hour stores were open by now, Franky contemplated, wondering how to pass the time. She paused in front of a dark boutique, using the reflection in the shop window to fix her hair. She opted to visit the supermarket and purchase a Red Bull; her shift wouldn’t finish until well past midnight, and after a full day of classes, she needed it.  
   
After slurping the dregs of the beverage from the aluminium can, Franky lobbed it cleanly into the garbage can nearby. She rubbed the corners of her mouth dry with the back of her hand, took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strutted under the glowing Kmart sign, into the store.  
   
She was quickly directed to the manager, a tall, dark woman with kind eyes called Marlee, who expressed her relief that it was a quiet night; she could take the time to show Franky the ropes. They began with a tour of the store.  
   
“I haven’t worked in retail before, so sorry in advance,” Franky confessed as they walked, Liz’s words echoing in her head.  
   
Marlee chuckled. “Don’t apologise, it’s good. We won’t have to weed any bad habits out of you. Like a clean slate!”  
   
Franky returned Marlee’s smile, disbelieving. She had just been called a clean slate. Here, she wasn’t going to be judged for her family, for her past. Her heart leapt at the freedom.  
   
Franky had flown through her basic training, finding she merely needed common sense to excel. After an hour, Franky was trusted to operate the register herself, with a promise that Marlee would be floating around nearby if she needed her. The hours ticked by slowly, uneventfully, and Franky quickly grew bored, not daring to discreetly pull out her phone lest she offend Marlee’s hospitality. Shockingly, very few people felt it necessary to go shopping well into the night on a Tuesday. Franky understood that the quiet night made for an optimal training opportunity, but she really wasn't the type to enjoy inactivity.  
   
As Franky busied herself jotting down notes from her orientation in a notepad she'd eventually found under the counter, a distant bark of laughter echoed throughout the store. Franky lifted her head, eyes searching for the source of the sound. A rowdy group emerged from the network of aisles, making their way towards the registers. It took Franky mere milliseconds to recognise the dark blonde ponytail that bounced excitedly alongside the other residents of Sierra House.  
   
“Midnight Kmart run. Classic,” Franky applauded as the obviously-very-tipsy group pulled up to her register.  
   
“The semester’s taking its toll, and there’s no better way to unwind,” Nash said, leaning sloppily on the counter.  
   
“It’s literally day two,” Vera laughed at him.  
   
Nash merely shrugged.  
   
“How’re you coping, Franky? Need a boost?” Will asked, motioning towards his hip.  
   
Franky’s gaze darted to the partially exposed flask inside the pocket of Will’s hoodie. She glanced quickly around the store, Marlee nowhere in sight.   
   
She groaned. “Any other day I’d be all over that, but it’s my first day on the job. Gotta keep it straight and narrow,” she frowned, flicking a rigid hand for emphasis. “Well, maybe just narrow,” she amended slyly, watching Bridget’s grin widen.  
   
“So, you want me to put that through for you or what?” Franky said, gesturing to the shopping trolley Vera had been pushing.  
   
There was an almost awkward pause as the group’s expressions turned devious. It was obvious from the easy way they interacted that the residents of Sierra house were very close friends. She figured so, judging by how much time the team seemed to spend together. A year or more in such a social environment probably would result in something akin to family. A family who were clearly not at Kmart at midnight to purchase necessities.  
   
“I’ll go first, shall I?” Nash said, scooping his items out of the trolley. He placed a can of dog food, a casserole dish, and a ten-pack of dinner party invitations on the counter.  
   
Franky raised her eyebrows and looked over Nash’s shoulder at Bridget struggling to contain her laughter.  
   
“Solid effort,” Franky applauded, familiar with the game. “I'm somewhat disturbed. Seven outta ten.”  
   
Nash held his hand behind his back to receive a loud hi-5 from Will.  
   
“I’m making you pay for these by the way. Gotta impress the new boss lady with my sales numbers,” Franky deadpanned, struggling to conceal a grin.  
   
“Will can cover it,” piped Vera. “This was his idea, anyway.”  
   
“How is that fair?” Will gaped.  
   
“It’s fair ‘cause your mum and dad pay your board,” Bridget quipped, her eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights.  
   
“Glad we got that sorted,” Franky said, meeting Bridget’s eyes. “Who’s next?”  
   
“Me!” Vera said, collecting her items.  
   
Vera handed Franky a bathing suit, a blow up kiddie pool, and a bulk pack of 25 boxes of Aeroplane Jelly.  
   
“Inventive. I like it,” Franky commended as she scanned the items.  
   
Vera looked pleased with herself.  
   
“Step aside,” Will commanded as he dropped a pack of mouse traps, a block of cheese, and a wok on the counter.  
   
“That’s fucked up,” Franky laughed.  
   
“That’s the point,” Will retorted.  
   
“Jesus, remind me to never come over to yours for dinner.”  
   
“Oh. Well, in that case…” Bridget moved to return her items to the aisles, feigning defeat.  
   
Franky gaped playfully, and let her eyes roam Bridget’s back. “Don’t forfeit on my account! Come on!”  
   
Bridget spun back around, a smile plastered across her face, and sidled up to the register, presenting a box of cake mix, rat poison pellets, and a  _Sympathies for Your Loss_  card. She took a step back and crossed her arms, victory stamped across her tight grin.  
   
“I’m officially alarmed.” Franky said as she scanned the items.  
   
Bridget flicked an eyebrow mischievously in response. Franky looked up just in time to witness the retort.  
  
“Aw shit, Will, check it out!”  Nash exclaimed from a promotional display nearby. “Super Smash Brothers!”  
   
“Oh, sweet,” Will called back, bounding off to examine the game, closely followed by Vera.  
   
Franky and Bridget shared a look.  
   
“Mate we’ve gotta have this, can we get it?” Nash pleaded, poring over the blurb on the back of the game case.  
   
Bridget turned her attention to her housemates, giving Franky the opportunity to shift her posture in an attempt to quell the fluttering in her chest.  
   
“Please?” Vera added.  
   
“Yeah, please?” Bridget called.  
   
“Yeah, alright,” Will said. “I’ll just tell my folks I needed an extra textbook or something. They’ll square it.”  
   
Bridget turned back to Franky with an expression that said ‘I told you so’.  
   
Franky swiped a chocolate bar from the display box alongside her register and, looking over Bridget’s shoulder at Will, Nash and Vera who were discussing specifics of the game, scanned it and buried it amongst Bridget’s items.  
   
“First place prize,” she whispered.  
   
Bridget gave a sly smile in response. “Thank you,” she mouthed as the others made their way back to the register.  
   
Franky put through the game and Will flashed his debit card.

Nash grabbed the game again before Franky could bag it. Bridget was quick to pick up the bag containing her items, and grabbed Vera’s as well, obscuring any bright purple wrapping that might potentially appear through the transparent plastic. With a final offering from Will’s flask, the gang bid their farewells and left. 

 

\--

   
The last drips of evening sun filtered through the yellowing curtains, casting a soft glow around clutter of study paraphernalia spread across Franky’s desk. She rolled her neck, sighing as she tried to decipher the warping line of legal jargon before her for the third time. A soft knock at the door cut through the silence, finally granting reprieve. Franky rose to answer it.  
   
“Hi Franky,” Doreen greeted warmly.  
   
“Hey, Dor,” Franky replied. “What’s goin’ on?”  
   
“Well, I was about to head off to training, if you wanna come with?” Her eyes darted to the red palm indent on Franky’s left temple.  “Reckon you could use a break, true,” she added, grinning.  
   
“What?” Franky pressed, her eyes following Doreen’s, before swinging her torso to the other side of her door where a small mirror hung. She pulled herself back around with an “Oh, right” and a self-deprecating eye roll.

“Give me five and I’ll meet ya downstairs.”  
   
Sporting yoga pants and an intentionally gaping tank top, Franky met Doreen (who had also collected Boomer) at the landing and they began their short walk to the gymnasium. They spoke of classes and favourite foods, and were detailing the task of brewing a pot of hot chocolate when they got home from training as they pushed open the doors of the gym.

Inside, Bea and Maxine had set up plastic cones and were discussing drills over a clipboard, whilst Liz, Nash and Will were playing by the hoop.  
   
Doreen elbowed her two companions, and with a telling wink, and the three darted over, invading the game, and swiftly turned it into three-on-three. 

“Is that all you got?” she teased her boyfriend, poking her tongue out as she evaded his defence.

“Come on, Nash! Don’t let your stiffy get in the way of winning!” Franky joked.

Gleeful yells and throaty laughter echoed through the gym as rules were quickly disregarded, Nash immobilising Doreen with a vice-like bear hug, and Boomer and Will pulling each other back by the arms as they raced for the fallen basketball.  
   
The game quickly reached a stalemate as Stacks On was declared over Nash and Doreen, who had fallen to the floor during Doreen’s bid for freedom. Franky had gracefully slid on top of the pile, and was feigning a nap when two petite figures dived on top of her, the motion of which unbalanced the heap, spilling groaning bodies onto the hardwood floor.  
  
Bridget was quick to find her feet, slapping a hi-5 to a giggling Vera’s palm as they rose. She strode over to where Franky had landed, eyes flickering to somewhere below Franky’s chin momentarily as she offered Franky a grin and a hand to help her up.  
   
The team, once they were standing upright once more, slowly milled over to Bea and Maxine’s set up, and attentively tuned into Bea’s introductory speech.  
   
“Alright everyone! New season, same drill. I expect every one of you to respect the game and respect the team. I want commitment. And I want you to care about our success as much as I do.”

A chorus of smirks and scoffs spread across the audience.

Bea chose not to notice.

“Alright, here’s what we’re doing tonight…”

Ten minutes later, the team was divided, as the experienced players set about complex drills, and Maxine focussed on instilling Franky and Boomer with the fundamentals. The both of them picked up the skills quickly, but nevertheless, Franky left the gym that evening with an uncomfortable feeling of insecurity about the first game, a feeling that even the pot of Doreen’s hot chocolate couldn’t melt away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for this one again goes to my brilliant dumpster partner in Fridget Steph here-comes-the-sunxo on tumblr, as well as Izzy timeisprec-ious and Tyler wemakebeautifulmadness for their feedback


	3. Chapter 3

The allure of productivity swept Franky as she entered the library the next day, the high ceilings giving way to spacious windows that bathed the room in the watery early morning sunlight. She wound her way through the shelves, picking up study material as she went, and settled into a comfortable booth at the back of the building. She set a timer on her phone, promising herself an hour and a half of total focus, and proceeded to bury herself in notes. 

The soundless alarm eventually vibrated across the table. Franky stretched her back, feeling the roll of every individual vertebra. She closed her textbook with a satisfying thud, and skimmed back over the notes she had written, smiling at the little doodles, jokes, and sarcastic remarks she had added in the margins to help her remember the dense content. 

Collecting her things, Franky retraced her steps through the shelves, returning the books to where she had found them. Passing through a wider aisle, which featured small study desks through the middle, a familiar face drew her attention. Bridget was eyeing her computer screen like she was plotting murder; a look that made Franky decide she was well in need of a break. 

“Hey,” Franky greeted in a cheerful whisper, as she sat on the upper corner of Bridget’s desk.

Bridget’s tense jaw gave way to a genuine smile. “Hey yourself!”

“Whatcha working on? You looked dead-set ready to kill.”

Bridget sighed, her eyebrows arched in a grimace.

“Final year certainly doesn’t pull any punches,” she groaned. “I’ve got this major assignment due at the end of the semester, and there’s so much work involved.”

“End of the semester?” Franky echoed. “You’ve got heaps of time, what are you freaking out now for!?”

Bridget attempted to pin Franky with a surly look, before shaking her head and resentfully muttering _first-years,_ through a barely suppressed smile.

“How about you tell me what you have to do for it? Get a first-year’s perspective,” her waggly eyebrows drawing out that smile from Bridget, which faltered slightly as she glanced back at her laptop screen. 

“It’s just a load of psychology bullshit,” Bridget said with finality, pushing her laptop closed and reclining in her chair.

“You’ll be ‘right.”

“Yeah, as long as I don’t go ‘round the bend trying to finish it. That’d be ironic,” Bridget said dryly.

“Well, at least then you’d be able to relate to your future patients,” Franky grinned.

The smile broke back through Bridget’s lips as she chuckled, and her eyes flickered away momentarily to collect herself, before being pulled back, like gravity, to once again meet Franky’s light gaze.

A moment of silence hung thickly in the air.

“You getting started, or finishing up?” Bridget asked, extricating herself from the eye contact and motioning towards Franky’s laptop and textbook, which were tucked loosely under her arm.

“Finishing.”

“Wanna go for a walk?”

“Wish I could,” Franky grimaced. “Employment calls.”

“Oh, okay,” Bridget said with a breath that seemed to sigh.

“Back to work, Gidget,” Franky teased, tapping Bridget’s laptop as she hopped off the desk and strode away, Bridget’s eyes following her, squinting curiously and not at all displeased with the new nickname she had been fitted. 

 

\--

 

“PWOAH! Look at ‘em gettin’ flogged!” Boomer exclaimed, lurching violently backwards against the navy blue coach as she cackled at the TV. Franky looked up from where she was absent mindedly picking at two neighbouring loose threads, intertwining them as she slowly spun them between her fingers, to the screen where surf lifesavers were battling against torrential currents. Liz shook her head from where she and Doreen were huddled under a knitted blanket on the matching adjacent sofa.

“How do you find _that_ funny?” she asked.

“Um, cos there’s another episode next week? They wouldn’t have any more episodes if they DIED.”

“It’s probably not as dramatic as it looks,” Doreen translated. “They just play it up for the entertainment of it.”

“Well… true. I guess,” Liz said quietly.

A shriek suddenly erupted from the kitchenette behind them, where Bea had just realised that Maxine had been placing strips of cheddar in her hair, rather than on the steaming plates of nachos. Leaving the half-mashed bowl of guacamole forgotten on the kitchen counter, Bea pounced toward an open packet of corn chips, vigorously frizbee-ing them in Maxine’s direction, who squealed as she sought refuge.

A rouge chip fell against Liz’s neck, prompting a yelp of disgust which quickly morphed into a battle cry as she leapt up to retaliate, her ammo of choice being the serving bowl of corn that sat expectantly on the dining table in the middle of the room. 

Franky and Doreen shared a telling look, and both rose to cautiously slink through the crossfire, towards the plates of nachos on the kitchen counter, collecting one each and sheltering it protectively as they snuck back to the couches, settling safely on the floor beside Boomer’s feet. Boomer leant down to swipe a chip from Doreen’s plate, which prompted an indignant “Oi!”

“Protection money,” Boomer reasoned, popping the chip into her mouth with a grin, and turning back to the television show. 

“Hey, Liz, my plate’s a bit bare. Mind aiming some of that over this way?” Franky called across the room amidst Doreen’s laughs. 

“What!?” exclaimed Bea, signalling an immediate ceasefire. 

Guilty smiles slowly spread across the faces of Franky and Doreen.

“Get your arses up to the table, you little delinquents,” she laughed. “That goes for all of you.” 

The girls swiftly reset the table, the forgotten guacamole hastily finished and the nachos, still steaming and now actually sporting cheese, distributed round the table. 

"Looks good, Red!" Franky said as she reached across to scoop a generous helping of sour cream from a bowl in front of her.

Maxine, seated opposite, swiftly dragged the bowl out of reach, coughing daintily and pinning Franky with a pointed glare. Franky looked up, eyes wide with surprise, before rolling her eyes and adding in a sing-song drone, “aaand Maxie, too.”

“Uhhh, that’s debatable,” Bea said, tugging on a thin set of ringlets for emphasis, before shooting Franky a quick smile of acknowledgement.

Maxine scoffed as she returned the bowl to Franky.

"Alright, ladies! Listen up!" Bea raised her voice, rising from her place at the head of the table.

The girls raised their heads attentively, mirroring Bea’s act of raising their glasses.  
   
"Here's to a new season of basketball!" Bea smiled to a chorus of whoops. "Hoop There It Is wouldn't be anything if not for every single team member. I'd like to honour tonight's meal…” She paused for emphasis, raising her glass. “… To the two newest members of the team, Franky and Boomer!"

Boomer’s cheeks blushed the colour of Bea’s hair as the girls cheered and sipped their various drinks.

Bea surveyed the table, basking in the merriment, and waited, as one by one, the girls returned their attention to the head of the table. She then shrugged dramatically. “Dig in!” 

The gang gleefully turned to their plates, and before long the table was alive with chatter.  
   
It just so happened that the conversation lulled right at the moment Doreen tapped Liz on the shoulder and whispered, “Nash asked the other day if I would do anal!”  
   
“What the fuck did you just say?” Bea boomed as the table dissolved into laughter.

Doreen looked mortified.

“Come on, a problem shared is a problem halved.” Liz encouraged as she cackled.

“Well? What didya tell him?” Franky quizzed, raising her voice over Boomer’s continued howls of laughter.  
   
“I said no!”  
   
“Hey, you know it’s not that bad…” Maxine raised her eyebrows coquettishly. “Don’t knock it ‘till you try it!”  
   
“Really?” Doreen asked, “I just wouldn’t want it to hurt or nothing!”  
   
Maxine nodded sagely, “Yeah, no, the first time it will, but after that it’s not bad!”  
   
“So, you take it up the bum!?” Boomer exclaimed from the other side of the table.  
   
Maxine laughed and cleared her throat. “Yes, and that’s the only way I do take it.”

“What?” Boomer pressed.

“I’m trans, love,” Maxine supplied.  
    
“So… you’ve got a knob?” 

“Boomer!” Franky exclaimed.

Liz placed a calming hand on Franky’s wrist to quiet her as Maxine explained.  
   
Maxine chuckled politely. “My parents let me start hormones when I was 11, but I’ll get the surgery once I’ve graduated and have a high enough paying job.”

She looked around the table, meeting every eye; all awash with respect.

“I’m not in any rush. I pass, and I feel good. That’s all that matters to me right now.”  
   
“Good onya, Maxi.” Franky nodded emphatically, leaning back in her chair.  
   
“Thanks,” Maxine smiled appreciatively.  
   
“You dating anyone, then, Franky?” Doreen smiled, taking a sip from her glass.  
   
“Ha! Nah, I’m a lone wolf” Franky smirked, brushing her hand in an arc in front of her.  
   
“Anyone you fancy?” Bea asked with a glint in her eye.

“Nup,” Franky replied, her voice catching as it rose.  
   
“What about you, Booms? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Doreen inquired.  
   
“Nah, me boyfriend, Daz, dumped me for me sister. Fuckin’ bitch.”  
   
Liz shook her head. “Blokes are the worst.”  
   
“Except for my Nash…” Doreen smiled giddily.  
   
A chorus of groans erupted from the table, as Doreen was pelted with leftover corn chips. 

“Piss off!” she cried as the group dissolved into laughter. 

 

\--

  


The sheer material of her leggings did little to protect Franky from the chill of the night air as she wandered through dewy grass towards the gymnasium. She hadn’t been able to shake her performance anxiety about the game that loomed the next day, and so had slipped out after the girls had gone to bed to sneak in some last minute practice. She pushed her fists deeper into the pockets of her hoodie, fidgeting with the bobby pin that lay there, as her mutinous mind visualised the various ways her shortcomings would disappoint the team. 

Wet grass gave way to cold concrete as Franky reached the South side of campus. Her footsteps gently echoed through the alleyways, and by the guide of the moonlight that lightly bounced off tinted classroom windows, she reached the back entrance to the gym. 

Under the cloak of both darkness and her hoodie, Franky began to jimmy the lock with the bobby pin, already bent out of shape, having been the scapegoat for her anxiety. An eventual click allowed Franky access and she nimbly slipped inside the change rooms, discarding her hoodie as she passed through into the gym. 

A loud shudder echoed through the barren room as the motion sensor lights responded to her presence. The fluorescent lights felt especially harsh shining down on Franky alone. She wasted no time in collecting a basketball from the storage room, wincing slightly at the amplified reverberations that echoed as she bounced it. 

She began with the warm up that Bea had subjected them to at training; jogging the length of the court and dropping at each baseline with push ups, burpees, and mountain climbers. After ten reps, her determination to make the most of this night had only grown, and so she began to dribble the ball around the court, weaving around ghostly opponents, practicing fake-outs, crossover variations and layups.

She had turned her attention towards precision dribbling down the sideline when the door to the foyer creaked open, turning her blood cold. A silent swear stretched across her lips as she looked for the closest escape, leaving the ball on the ground and bolting into the storeroom. She barely had time to flatten herself behind the door before a jangle of keys signified that the doors to the gymnasium had, too, opened. 

Franky strained to listen to the intruder, praying to whatever deity that might listen that their imposition would be short and uneventful. If she got caught, she’d be fucked. 

The light footsteps faded, possibly in the direction of the change rooms. Franky took that opportunity to look for a better hiding spot, eventually crouching between two gymnastic mats that leant haphazardly against the wall. She let her head fall backwards against one of the mats, closing her eyes, and settled in for the wait.

The footsteps soon returned and grew alarmingly close. Realising that the moonlight from the small window over the basketball rack on the adjacent wall was surrounding her like a spotlight, Franky sidled further into the small gap. Ears pricked, she tried to track the footsteps over her thundering heartbeat. As they gradually approached, she focussed her energy on making her rapid breaths silent, pulling them in gently through her nose.

She felt the footsteps enter the storage room and trail past the gym mats. Campus Security must be checking for intruders, she thought. Maybe a security camera had seen her break in. Her mind began concocting her excuse, should she be found, threading together the plausible elements of truth, and fabricating the incriminating features. She had accidently taken home a basketball after training yesterday, hadn’t realised until this evening, and was in the process of returning it when the sound of Security had frightened her. She’d play up the guilt of having accidently stolen something, and the fear of being a young girl alone in the darkness. 

She clenched her jaw at the thought of sacrificing her dignity to save her ass, and was just preparing the crocodile tears when a springy pair of purple joggers stepped into view in front of the basketball rack. 

“What the fuck!?” Franky exclaimed.

Bridget whipped her head around in alarm, and when she failed to immediately spot Franky, Franky began to shuffle out from her hiding place, the movement of which sent an aftershock of fright through Bridget again. 

“Franky, what the fuck!?” Bridget shrieked; a shriek that quickly turned into laughter. “What the fuck are you doing there?"

“Booty call,” Franky grinned as she found her feet. “You just missed her, but.”

Bridget merely stared, shock and relief still dominating her brain function.

“I came to practice for tomorrow,” Franky admitted. “I-“ she started, hesitating as her insecurities echoed through her mind, sounding stupider than ever before, and surely even more so if she actually vocalised them. “I don’t know if I’ve quite got the hang of that shooting technique Maxie was teaching us last night,” she shrugged.

Bridget gently surveyed her.

“I came to practice, too,” she said. “Last night just kind of… proved to me that I’ve fallen behind since last season. I’m worried that, I don’t know, if I’m not up to… standard, if I let the team down, it might carry past the game and affect my relationship with everybody. So I borrowed the gym keys off Bea yesterday and… here I am.”

Even as she struggled for words, Bridget seemed to articulate herself so well. Suddenly, the mutual insecurity didn’t seem quite so stupid after all. Franky considered agreeing, voicing her concerns too, but something stopped her, because, this was Bridget talking. Bridget, who could make a Neighbours plot sound relatable. If Franky had opened up, it still would’ve seemed stupid as hell. 

Instead, Franky lightly scoffed.

“You weren’t the one in remedial class with Maxine,” she said with a reassuring smile, reaching around Bridget to collect a basketball off the shelf. 

For a small moment, Franky thought she felt Bridget inch into her space, until Franky brought her hand back around, ball in tow, which almost seemed to surprise Bridget. 

“Come on, then,” Franky said, gesturing with her head towards the gym. 

Inwardly cursing her rush in collecting the ball, she spun around and dribbled out of the storeroom, a secret smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. 

All of a sudden, the ball was snatched out from under her, as Bridget, her light steps as silent as a shadow, swiftly stole the ball, turning as she passed Franky and dribbling the ball backwards, a mischievous grin plastered across her entire face.

Franky gasped, an upward pull of her eyebrows signaling the challenge accepted, and darted up to her opponent. 

Bridget ducked and weaved around Franky, protecting the ball from the brunette’s slender fingers with ease. 

“Widen your stance a bit,” Bridget instructed, as she spun past Franky for the third time. “And stay lower; always make sure you head is lower than your opponent’s.”

Franky obliged, and when Bridget tried to make a pass, she lunged towards the ball, almost knocking it out of her hands.

“Better!” Bridget praised. “Still a little late though; watch your opponent’s chest, rather than the ball. That way you can anticipate their movements earlier.”

“Definitely already doing that,” Franky puffed, pulling her bottom lip into her mouth with a smile that was equal parts salacious and endearing, eliciting a throaty laugh from Bridget.

“Well then, you really don’t have any excuses,” Bridget teased as she swiftly bypassed Franky again.

Franky lightly shook her head in exasperation and faced Bridget again, lowering her stance, her face tight with focus. Keeping light on her toes, she mirrored Bridget’s movements, swaying back and forth, as each tried to predict the other’s next move. Franky trained her eyes on Bridget’s lightly freckled chest, deeming it the ultimate, and most excruciating, test of self-control to steer her attention away from the way Bridget’s collarbones lightly bowed with each panting breath.

Her concentration paid off, noticing a minute jerk in Bridget’s left shoulder, and lunging forward to steal the ball as Bridget attempted a crossover in front of her. 

Gleeful yells erupted from both girls, Franky continuing her momentum by dribbling all the way up to the hoop and attempting a layup, which wildly ricocheted off the hoop. Franky caught the rebound and tried again. 

“Are we moving on?” Bridget called from centre court.

Franky clicked her tongue in response.

“Gotta quit while you’re ahead, Gidget!” she called back triumphantly.

Bridget stood back and watched Franky’s attempts at goal, assessing her technique, or, at least that’s how she justified her paying particularly close attention to the exposed back of Franky’s sport top, making conscious note of the way her muscular shoulder blades nimbly contorted as she worked the court.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a sore loser!” Franky taunted. “Or are you just enjoyin’ a perve?”

Sprung out of her reverie, Bridget moved to pick up Franky’s disregarded ball from earlier, and joined her on the court, timing her initial shot so that it knocked Franky’s ball away from the hoop.

Franky froze and turned to face Bridget, arms outstretched indignantly. 

Bridget giggled as she jogged to collect both balls, apparently oblivious to the rise in Franky’s eyebrows as she bent down to pick them up.

Instead of throwing the ball back to Franky, she sauntered over, pressing the ball gently into Franky’s stomach with a slight rise of her chin.

“Yep,” she murmured, before stepping back to resume shooting at the hoop.

Franky took a moment to recover, then scoffed at Bridget’s attempt at intimidation to regain her dignity. She _was_ a sore loser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks again to my usual three, you guys are amazing to bounce ideas off. Much love xo


	4. Chapter 4

Saturday morning began abruptly. A commanding knock against Doreen’s door in the next room reverberated through the walls and stirred Franky from her sleep. She heard the muffled, yet unmistakable sound of Bea’s voice, followed by brisk footsteps approaching her door. Still yet to open her eyes, Franky cringed in anticipation, burrowing her head further into her pillow. The knock came heavy and loud. 

“Up and at ‘em!” Bea called. “Team breakfast in ten minutes!”

Franky groaned as Bea moved on, crossing the hall to knock on Boomer’s door.

She sat up and braced herself on the edge of her bed for a moment, feeling consciousness slowly filter through her body. She wiped at her eyes as she rose, donning an old pair of leggings that was losing its elastic and gaped at the knees. Bra-less under the old t-shirt that she slept in, but decent enough, she exited her room, ambled along the hallway, and entered the kitchen. 

It took a moment before she realised that there were more than just H2 meandering around the kitchen. Dragging her eyes up the length of the room she noticed Doreen draped across Nash’s lap on the couch, Vera and Liz seated at the table with mugs of coffee, and Bea and Will busying around the cooktop. 

Maxine was leaning against the kitchen counter by the window, chatting animatedly to Bridget, who was perched on top, swinging her legs in unison with the movement of her hands. 

Forgetting, in her groggy haze, to be wary of the others in the room, Franky took a moment to simply stare. 

Bridget had a way of moving that was melodious; somehow finding a perfect harmony between staccato and fluidity. Franky watched, absorbed by the way she softly tilted her head as she spoke. The way she kept a rigid hand perched by her shoulder, frozen as Maxine interjected her mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she listened. The way her smile slowly spread across her face as she began to laugh. How her laughter grew, her hand snaking through the air to steady herself against Maxine’s shoulder as her body weakened. 

“Want a cuppa, Franky?” 

It took a moment for Franky to register that Liz’s question was directed at her.

Wiping at her eyes with the knuckle of her thumb as she assented, Franky drifted over to the dining table and dropped heavily into the seat next to Vera.

“Mornin’,”

“I guess you’re not a morning person?” Vera smiled.

“There’s a difference between morning, and the crack of dawn,” Franky groaned. “And that difference is coffee.”

Vera chuckled lightly as, on cue, Liz placed a mug down in front of Franky. She lightly squeezed her shoulder as she retracted her hand.

Franky looked up to offer her thanks, her eyes instantly moving past Liz to where Bridget still sat. Franky’s new angle of view revealed her cast in a glow from the sunlight that gleamed through the window.

Mentally rolling her eyes at her thundering heartbeat, Franky turned back to her coffee, savouring the subtle warmth that engulfed her as she sipped. 

Just as Liz returned to her seat opposite Vera, Boomer shuffled into the room, slurring a sleepy, “ ‘Lo’,” as she entered. Liz nipped up again to make another coffee.

Boomer sat herself down next to Franky, yawning, and as soon as her bottom touched the seat of the chair, she collapsed sideways, resting heavily on Franky’s arm. Franky used her free hand to stroke Boomer’s hair, muttering “I know,” until Liz returned with coffee.

A sudden shriek erupted from the couch, snapped shut by a giggling shush. 

Liz’s eyes met Franky’s, widening as she sipped from her mug.

“Oi, lovebirds!” Bea yelled to the back of the couch. “Not in the family room! Get your asses up to the table.”

It was several moments before guilty heads popped up and hesitantly approached the dining table. Doreen took the chair on the other side of Vera, sweetly stroking the hand of Nash, who sat adjacent, earning a crinkled nose from Vera. 

Franky was just about to puff out a laugh when slender fingers snaked around her side, placing a knife and fork beside her elbow. Franky looked up to mutter a startled “thanks,” as Bridget continued to hand out cutlery, Maxine shadowing with napkins, before they too settled into their seats. 

Declaring breakfast to be ready, Bea and Will, balancing multiple plates on their arms, distributed steaming plates of toast topped with wilted spinach and mushrooms around the table. 

“Breakfast of champions,” Will announced as he slid into his seat.

Franky and Bridget’s eyes met diagonally across the table, Bridget arching her brows in anticipation for the meal. Franky grinned goofily in return. 

The team ate hurriedly, then split as H block returned to their rooms to change and Sierra house mulled around the dorm as they waited. 

Franky was just fastening the cord to her basketball shorts as a soft knock resounded against her door.

“Yep?” 

Bridget inched the door open, and leant her head casually on the door frame.

“Bea’s sent me to round everyone up.” Her eyes crinkled at the sides as she smiled wryly.

“Well, tell her to keep her tits on, I’ll be out in a sec.”

Bridget grinned as she watched Franky tie up her hair.

“I’ll pass that along,” she smirked, her eyes darting around the room before bouncing off to the next door. 

When everyone was ready to go, or close enough to it, Bea ushered them all out of the dorm, regardless of the toothbrush that hung from Boomer’s mouth that was lobbed onto the countertop as Bea pulled her by the hand out the door. 

They made their way to the South Side in rows of two or three. Franky and Boomer trailed behind the rest, Boomer’s pace gradually slowing.

“You right?” Franky asked eventually. 

“Yeah, yeah, just, hang on a sec,” Boomer replied, glancing timidly at the group ahead of them.

Franky furrowed her brows in confusion. When the group was a satisfactory distance away, Boomer turned to Franky, whispering.

“Hey, what’d’ya reckon’s goin on with Bea and Jacko?”

Franky followed Boomer’s gaze to where the two headstrong individuals lead the pack side by side.

“I dunno, why?”

“Well, I saw ‘em yesterday hanging out on the Lawn, AND this mornin’, I woke up real early, yeah? And I could hear them chatting through my wall.”

“Well, shit, that definitely means _something_.”

The outer sides of Boomer’s eyebrows drooped. “Yeah?”

“Yeah- that you could probably see your giant crush from outer space.” Franky punctuated with a jab to Boomer’s shoulder.

“What? Nahhh-“

Franky surveyed her, rendering her denial pointless.

“What do I do?” Boomer asked quietly.

Franky shook her head succinctly. 

“Nothin’. Look, Bridget’s told me about him, he bounces from chick to chick every other week.”

“But Bea-“

“Look, even if there is somethin’ between them, then there’s nothing you can do anyway.”

Boomer deflated.

“I’m sorry, Booms,” Franky said gently. 

“Whatever,” Boomer sniffed. “What happened to you last night anyway? I heard you leaving your room. Where’d you go?”

Franky blanched, then crinkled her nose in dismissal.

“Nowhere? I just took a late shower.”

They sped up a little to pass through the gym doors held open by Bea and Will, Boomer keeping her gaze low and she stepped through. 

The team followed Maxine through the crowd of spectators like ducklings over to the change rooms, where they gathered for a pep talk before warming up.

“Right,” Bea started. “The team we're playing call themselves Swish and Flick. Now, they're a new team so I don’t know a lot about them, but stick to the tactics we worked on at training, and we’ll be fine. I want accurate passing…”

The rest of Bea’s speech drowned out in Franky’s ears as her anxiety peaked. She felt her hands begin to shake and willed with every bone in her body for them to stop. The pressure of the impending game was getting to her, despite her extra training session with Bridget. She didn’t understand why. She’d had plenty of practice, she should be ready, she should be fine. And yet still the tremors steadily made their way higher up her arms. 

She was about to back away towards the bathrooms when a warm hand engulfed her agitated fingers.  
Franky looked and saw Bridget by her side, a small but encouraging smile etched across her lips. Franky tried to reciprocate it, which prompted a second warm hand to cocoon her. 

When Bea concluded her speech, Bridget gave Franky’s hands a quick rub.

“You good?” she asked.

Franky felt her hands steady under her touch.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They made their way to the court and began darting up and down the court to Bea’s instruction.

In a word, Swish and Flick were robust.

“Fuckin’ gorillas,” Boomer muttered as they took their positions for the start of the game.

The referee threw the ball in the air, beginning the game, Nash leaping forward to claim possession. The Swish and Flick immediately charged at him, and within no time had stolen back the ball. 

“The fuck,” Franky mouthed, bracing herself as the opposing team surged towards them.

Bea roared strategic instructions from the sideline as the team reshuffled into defensive positions. 

The ball was passed across the court to Franky’s mark, Franky’s heart rate reaching critical levels as she jockeyed to slow the player down. Keeping light on her toes, she kept her eyes trained on his chest. A jolt of his shoulder told Franky to pounce to the right, but he was far taller than the petite blonde Franky had been practicing with earlier. He stuck out a defensive arm stuck out as he spun away, striking Franky across the cheek as he did so. 

“What the fuck!?” Franky screeched amidst a chorus of “Ref?!?”s from the sideline.

The referee shrugged her shoulders and indicated to play on.

“He almost took my fucking eye out!” 

The player passed the ball off and sneered at Franky as he jogged past her. 

Swish and Flick scored, Franky shaking her head in frustration. Maxine jogged up to her as they reset their positions on the court. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, squeezing Franky’s shoulder.

“Yeah I’m fine, just pissed,” she said coldly, shrugging Maxine off. 

“Next time, just keep going, okay? Unless the ref blows the whistle, it’s play on. Okay?”

The game continued, Hoop There It Is making up three baskets before the opposing team scored again. 

Before long, Swish and Flick were once again on the offence. The same boy from earlier was skilfully darting down the sideline. With fire in her eyes, Franky rose to impede him, getting as close as possible. If the ref wasn’t going to call minor fouls, she might as well use that to her advantage. She met his evasion manoeuvres, slowing him down considerably. 

Despite her efforts, he made it onto the key. She watched him inhale deeply, eyes trained on the hoop, and prepared to defend his shot. She jumped to defend the shot, but rose too early, giving him the opportunity to fake her out. As she dropped to the floor, he pushed past her to shoot again, knocking her off her landing. Her feet struggled to catch her, her ankle grazing the ground at a nasty angle. She felt a sharp pain shoot across her foot as she stumbled onto the floor. 

“Fuck!” Franky swore for the umpteenth time that morning.

The ref once again signalled ‘play on’, prompting Bea to call a time out. 

Franky shook off help from Will and Nash as she limped towards the sidelines.

“You okay?” Bea asked.

“Fuck that, that was a foul,” Franky seethed.

“It was rough, but well within the rules,” Maxine said.

Agitation was surging through Franky’s veins like a hurricane, her heart beats felt like seismic pulses; violent and catastrophic. She felt suffocated by the people around her. 

“Whatever,” she bit out, limping over to the bench. 

“Okay,” she heard Bea address the rest of the team. “Doreen, I want you to sub on for Franky. I want you strong against that player, yeah?”

“Yep,” Doreen assented. 

Play resumed, and Franky sat by the rest of the game, watching the score sit almost equal as it rose. The game remained rough, but, motivated by Franky’s injury, Hoop There It Is dished it out in equal amounts. 

Her foot had begun to purple by the time the timer beeped, the score 26 - 23 thanks to Nash's 3-pointer in the final seconds showing no basket, leaving the home team victorious.  
Will and Nash ran over and scooped Franky up and carried her onto the court, jostling her as they chanted their victory. She cracked a smile, catching the infectious laughter that rang through the gym. Bea stood to the side, arms on her hips with a proud grin lighting up her face. 

"Oi! What're you doing, get over here!" Franky called from where she was perched atop Nash and Will’s shoulders.

Bea grinned and jogged lightly over to her celebrating team, took her arms around Maxine and Doreen and joined in their roar of victory. 

  


\--

 

Once again, the late Thursday afternoon found Franky hunched over her desk, buried in notes. The week had passed rapidly and, between work and school, Franky found she had little time for much else. She had been keeping her promise to herself and remained on top of her study load, but this afternoon, focus felt completely out of reach.

Books haphazardly spread across the desk in front of her, Franky sat back in her chair, fidgeting with the ends of her rat’s tail. Her eyes flickered around the room searching for some kind, any kind of stimulus that wasn’t related to _Ruddock v Vadarlis 2001_.

Her ankle had bruised darkly after Saturday, and she had used her employee discount for the first time to purchase a bandage for it. On Bea’s clear and indisputable instruction, she had stayed off her feet as much as possible throughout the week. She and Boomer had earned a harsh telling off from Bea, however, as on Monday evening, Boomer had piggybacked Franky to the showers, knocked Franky’s shoulder on the doorframe, and dropped her on the tiles in surprise. Franky had landed flat on her ass, and the two were rendered immobile for at least three minutes afterwards, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

Despite taking care (for the most part), the bone was still mapped with wisps of watercolour blues, and Franky had made sure to wrap it snuggly in preparation for training that night.

Her fingers reached for her phone to check the time. A small grin upturned the corners of her mouth as she realised that it had been 14 minutes since she last glanced at her phone, and could now get changed for training.

Unfazed that she was the first to arrive (aside from Bea and Maxine, who were hunched over a clipboard), Franky threw a “hey” across the gym and lightly jogged into the storage room, testing the strength of her ankle. Returning with an armful of basketballs, she settled herself on the three-point line and practiced taking shots.

The rest of the team eventually arrived and Bea wasted no time in putting them to work. They ran through the warm up twice, and were given thirty seconds to chug down water before their next activity.

Split into two teams of two lines on opposing ends of the court, they faced the complex maze of rubber cones between them.

“This is a relay race,” Bea announced. “I want you to dribble through the cones, then pass the ball to the next person. First team to finish two cycles wins.”

Franky, first off the mark for her team, waggled her brows diagonally across the court at Bridget, who was to be the first receiver for hers. She flashed a competitive grin in return, then turned to face Doreen who stood parallel to Franky, concentration etched across her face.

“On your marks… Get set… Go!”

Franky and Doreen shot off their blocks, weaving skilfully through the course amidst cheers from their teammates. They passed the balls off to their receivers at neck and neck. Bridget and Nash followed suit, darting through the cones. Bridget’s small stature unquestionably maximised her agility, and she quickly overtook Nash, passing her ball swiftly to Vera before Nash had rounded his penultimate cone. He groaned in frustration as he re-joined the back of the queue, prompting Bridget to pin him with a smug grin. 

The contest between Will and Liz evened race once again, the cacophony of cries becoming more frantic as Franky and Doreen began the final rotation. 

Franky had just turned back after her sprint to witness Nash kick a cone across the course to stagger Bridget. She watched in horror as Bridget’s momentum proved too great to avoid it, the cone violently twisting Bridget’s foot as she came down hard on the uneven surface. Her face contorted in pain as she hit the floor, Nash rushing to her side, cussing his apology.

“Fuck, fuck, Bridget, I’m so fucken sorry,” he spluttered.

“Nash, you dipshit!” Doreen yelled, as the team circled around them.

“I’m okay, I’m alright,” Bridget mumbled, gripping Maxine’s arm as she rose.

“You sure?” Franky croaked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

Maxine helped her limp over to the benches, Bea silently marshalling everyone to give her space, and instead addressing Nash with fire in her eyes. Franky grabbed Bridget’s water bottle and her own, limping slightly as she joined her on the bench. 

“Do you need anything else?” Maxine asked, concern threading her brows as Franky handed Bridget the bottle. 

“I’m okay for now, I’ll ice it when I get home,” Bridget replied.

“Look, we match,” Franky grinned as she sat down beside her.

“How is yours?” Maxine pointed to Franky’s ankle.

“Well, I’m disappointed it doesn’t look like something Van Gough pulled out of his ass anymore, but it feels okay… well, it did. I might sit out for the rest, too. Play it safe, y’know.”

She felt Bridget lean into her side, which deafened her to whatever it was that Maxine said before she walked away. Her stomach clenched tightly, and her heart thundered in her chest. She was well acquainted with the way her body responded to Bridget by now, but in this moment there was something more. It was as if a wave of calm and comfort had engulfed her too, keeping her tied to the ground against the rising butterflies. It was soothing. It was…nice. 

The two sat in silence, watching the team move on to practice other skills, until Bridget delicately cleared her throat.

“This is getting worse,” she sighed, sitting up.

“Shit, okay, um, d’you want me to drive you home?”

“Would you mind?” 

“’Course not, come on.”

With a farewell wave to the team, Franky helped Bridget to her feet, and, with the reality of the situation in the forefront of her mind, tried not to indulge too much in the feeling of Bridget’s arm draped around her. Still, she held onto Bridget’s hand on her shoulder as they limped out of the gym. 

“Stay here.” Franky slowed as they reached the kerb. “Which one’s your car? I’ll bring it ‘round.”

“That one.” Bridget pointed to a small silver hatchback fifty metres away.

“Pretty shmick!” Franky grinned as she headed for the vehicle, her back tingling with Bridget’s gaze as she walked away.

She parked the car on the kerb and leant across the console to push the passenger door open with a grunt.

“So chivalrous,” Bridget giggled and she swung herself in.

“I know. It’s a principal; I always treat my girls better than a dude ever would.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Bridget replied quietly.

Franky blanched at her own brazenness, and mentally kicked herself as she pulled into traffic. She’d overstepped with her presumptuous jokes (probably because this time, she wasn’t really kidding) and had obviously made Bridget uncomfortable. 

She considered apologising. But for what? Making Bridget uncomfortable with her giant crush? No way could she do that in this tiny car with no escape route if things got uncomfortable. But she couldn’t let this awkwardness fester in silence.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” she asked instead.

“About as good as you’d expect,” Bridget strained.

She dared a glance to her left, where Bridget was sitting with her injured leg crossed tightly over the other, chin resting on her fist as she stared out the window. The yellow streetlights cast Bridget’s hair with a shimmering golden glow as they sped along the back streets, and Franky struggled to look away. 

“It’s just here on the left,” Bridget pointed.

Pulling up in front of Sierra House, Franky leapt out of the car and hurried to Bridget’s side. She didn’t dare grasp Bridget’s hand again, so Bridget settled with gripping Franky’s shoulder as they limped, achingly slowly, towards the front door. Bridget winced at every step, making Franky cringe.

“Alright, hold up.” Franky steadied Bridget and let go, stepping behind her. “Do you trust me?”

“That depends, what are you-” Bridget yelped as Franky lifted her into a bridal carry and walked the rest of the distance in gentle strides.

“Franky!” she giggled. 

“I’m just imagining Bea’s face if she saw you putting weight on your foot.” Franky shook her head solemnly. “You know she didn’t let my feet touch the ground for three days when I got hurt?”

Bridget laughed openly, and Franky felt her knees weaken.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she giggled. “And I don’t mind.”

Franky opened the door with the key passed to her from Bridget, and stepped across the threshold, softly depositing Bridget on the living room couch. 

“Put your foot up!” she yelled as she bounded into the kitchen in search of frozen peas. She returned with the vegetables bound in a tea towel, crouching by Bridget’s ankle and gingerly pressing the bag to the bone, which had already begun to purple. Bridget hissed in pain.

“I know it sucks, but keep it there. I’ll go get you painkillers.”

Again, Franky bolted off through the unfamiliar house. Bridget lay on the couch with her foot on the armrest, smiling as the clang of vigorously opened drawers and cupboards echoed through the walls.

She soon returned with a large box of tablets, and a glass of water chilled with ice. Popping the tablets into Bridget’s open hand, she passed her the glass and watched her gulp it down. Returning the glass to the coffee table, Franky sat herself down on the wooden floor by Bridget’s head.

“You don’t have to sit down there,” Bridget chuckled, sitting up and patting the space where her head had laid.

Franky rose and tentatively sat by Bridget’s side. Bridget leaned into her, readjusting so that her head rested in the crook of Franky’s arm. She winced as her movements shifted her foot. 

Franky leaned forward and picked up the painkiller box, furrowing her brows as she read the fine text. Bridget tilted her head back, squinting at Franky upside down.

“What are you doing?”

“Says here that it takes twenty minutes to take effect.”

Bridget groaned. “Distract me ‘till then.”

Franky’s eyes darted around the room searching for something to serve as entertainment. 

“Well, Gidget” she grinned, “You’ve got the choice of either a movie or a lap dance.” 

Bridget laughed, and hummed in contemplation. When Bridget didn’t answer, Franky chuckled, saving Bridget the discomfort of having to turn down a lap dance. She ruffled Bridget’s hair as an indication to let her rise, and approached the TV unit that held DVDs. She immediately spotted a Parks and Rec disc sitting loosely on top of a pile of DVD cases, holding it up and raising her brows, seeking Bridget’s approval. Bridget gave an enthusiastic “Yeah!”, so Franky set up the DVD and wandered away in search of a blanket. 

She returned with a fluffy knitted thing that she could only assume belonged to Vera, and settled down on the couch. Bridget had repositioned herself, to give her ankle a break from the cold. She now sat up on the lounge, with her foot rested on the coffee table. Franky flopped down beside her, pulling the blanket over both of them as Bridget pressed play on the remote. 

Bridget lay her head on Franky’s shoulder, Franky finding the courage to rest her palm on Bridget’s thigh under the blanket. She barely registered the TV, her entire being was absolutely engulfed with the rhythm of Bridget’s breathing. She was aware of every nuanced movement she made, and her heart raced as, ten minutes into the show, Bridget nuzzled further into Franky’s shoulder. She was wonderstruck by how comfortable this was. 

Franky had never sought this kind of comfort with anyone before. She didn’t classify herself as a cuddler, opting for more of a ‘mates who happen to make out’ type of relationship when she had them. But Bridget was different, so different. And it was amazing, but terrifying. 

The end credits rolled, but neither of them moved. 

“How’s the pain?”

“Pretty much gone.”

“That’s good.” Franky smiled, then let out a nervous chuckle. 

“I’m, um, not actually sure how I’m gonna get home.”

Bridget sat up, their shoulders brushing. She sighed softly, her eyes boring into Franky’s.

“You don’t have to go home,” she whispered.

Franky blinked. “They’re gonna wonder where I am, but.”

“I don’t want you to go home.”

Bridget’s eyes flickered to Franky’s lips as she inched closer, Franky feeling her heart leap in her chest as Bridget stopped and waited for her to close the distance. Bridget’s lips were soft and supple, Franky smiling as she tenderly pressed against them. Bridget’s hands rose to stroke her face as she gently increased the pressure, drawing a line with her thumb from the corner of Franky’s mouth to her cheekbone, Franky melting into the touch.

Franky pulled back slightly, nuzzling her nose before she slipped her lips over Bridget’s again, deepening the kiss as she tugged on her hipbones, pulling her closer. Bridget moaned softly, prompting Franky to venture a tongue that traced a smooth line along Bridget’s bottom lip. Bridget’s hands gripped Franky’s neck tighter as she pulled her even closer, slipping her tongue against Franky’s in a tantalising pattern. Their hands roamed, fingers slipping over shoulders, along collarbones, down spines.

The room disappeared around them, their heads swimming with the sensation of one another. Nothing existed but the static warmth that buzzed from their touches, electrified by the rapid beat of their hearts. 

Suddenly, the click of the front door jolted them apart, the booming laughs of Will and Nash resounding through the house. 

“Fuck!” Franky mouthed, her hand retreating from Bridget’s thigh to run her fingers through her hair, smoothing it where it had knotted from Bridget’s touch.

Bridget shifted to create distance between Franky and herself, schooling her features as Vera, Will and Nash rounded the corner into the living room.

“Hey, are you alright?” Nash asked.

“Yep, Franky’s been looking after me.”

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Vera smiled. “I’ll give you a lift home.”

Now the rest of the team was home, she had no viable reason to stay. She glanced at Bridget who pursed her lips in a tiny sympathetic smile. 

“Oh yeah, cool, thanks,” she said, hesitating before stiffly following Vera out of the living room.

“Franky,” Bridget called, stopping her before she stepped out the door. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Franky smiled, before spinning back around to follow Vera to her car. 

 

\--

  


Franky climbed the stairs to H block, replaying the moment in Bridget’s living room over and over. Euphoria had settled unevenly in her stomach, and Franky found she had more reservations every step she took. Bridget had made the first move, but Franky had definitely floated the idea first, even if it was just through a joke. Had Bridget only done that because it’s what she thought Franky wanted? Did she see Franky’s crude humour as an open invitation to experiment? 

Franky stopped at the landing and sighed. She didn’t want to be an experiment to Bridget. Franky’s feelings for the sensible, but surprisingly cheeky blonde had caught her completely off-guard. She felt inexplicably drawn to her in ways she could honestly say she hadn’t felt before. The banter was easy with her, and the hidden meaning behind the innuendos had Franky feeling an edge she was beginning to become addicted to. 

But then she replayed the kiss again, fixing on the intimacy of the moment. The slow, tentative start to the kiss, the gentle caress of Bridget’s fingers on her face, her slight moan when Franky had deepened it. Those definitely weren’t items on the Sexuality Bucket List of a straight girl. Usually they dived in, wanting as much as they could as fast as they could. Franky had been used enough times to recognise the tell-tale signs. And then the way Bridget had said thank you, her voice deep and slick and so rich with emotion. It was that, more than anything, that washed Franky with a sense of comfort. 

She rounded the corner to walk down the hallway to her room, her mind going back to replaying the kiss and hoping that Bridget was doing the same. Amongst the generic evening sounds of showers, muffled music and chatter that resonated down the hall, a distinct moan broke Franky from her daydream. She followed the sound to the living room, and, peering around the corner, spotted a head of bright red hair latched passionately onto a blonde. Bea was sitting on the blondes lap on the couch, faintly rocking as they kissed. Franky stepped into the doorway and cleared her throat.

The two sprung apart, their faces painted with shock. 

“Not in the family room, Red,” Franky tutted, and, ignoring Bea’s spluttering attempts at an excuse, continued down the hall with an extra spring in her step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my usual lesbian consultants as always, you lot rock.


End file.
